


We're Gonna Be Alright

by Emerald_Ashes



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Homesickness, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 10:45:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7888240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emerald_Ashes/pseuds/Emerald_Ashes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you’re lacking the familiar comforts of home, life is usually better with fresh baked cookies. Even when you’re at the edge of the galaxy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're Gonna Be Alright

It was true, what they said about space. No one could hear you scream. Unless you were in a magical flying castle-ship, galaxies away from home, and piloting mystical, mechanical lions. Then you might hear someone scream. And that scream echoed through the halls, loudly.

Lance had fallen asleep in the lounge, sprawled out across the couch. At one point the whole team had all been gathered in there talking. The next thing he knew he was falling to the ground; his heart practically pounding out of his chest as someone’s shouts roused him.

Lance wasted no time in racing off towards the sound. It sounded like it was coming from the kitchen. He caught a glimpse of Shiro running into the room just a moment before him, and Lance picked up the pace.

The rest of the paladins (minus Pidge who was most likely on one of the lower decks) and the two Alteans were standing just inside the doorway. Hunk was in the middle of the kitchen, his back turned to them, and he was surround by a literal hurricane of dishware, utensils, and bowls filled with various mixtures.

The gathered group seemed to relax upon seeing there was no imminent threat. Lance though was still on red-alert. Sure, there was no immediate danger, but he was still aware that something was deeply bothering Hunk.

“Hunk!” Keith snapped, his bayard had been drawn in preparation for a fight, but he let it dissipate. “Why are you screaming bloody murder?”

“It’s all wrong!” Hunk spun around and ran his flour covered fingers through his hair. It would have been kind of funny any other time, but Hunk look so defeated now.

A cold ache clenched around Lance’s heart. Something had really set Hunk off, which was unusual. Mainly because when something bothered Hunk he let you know right away. He didn’t really bottle up his feelings that often.

“What’s wrong, buddy?” Lance grabbed a nearby cloth off the counter, and moved over to Hunk.

Hunk seemed to be thinking something over, and didn’t hear Lance’s question. He startled when Lance brought the cloth up gently to wipe away some pink gloop that had managed to find its way on to Hunk’s cheek.

“Lance,” Hunk sighed as if seeing him for the first time. Then his eyes fell on the rest of his audience, and he felt his face flush. “Oh, no. I was totally freaking out just now.”

“It’s okay, dude,” Lance patted him on the arm, and spoke softly. “They were just worried. You, uh, screamed pretty loud.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Hunk said, and took the towel Lance quietly offered to him and wiped his hands off. “I was a little wrapped up in what I was doing, and got… frustrated.”

“What exactly were you working on?” This time it was Allura who spoke up.

Hunk gestured to the mess in front of him. “Baking,” he said and moved to sit on one of the multiple stools that were lining the counters in the kitchen. Lance took up a seat next to him.

“You screamed over baking?” Keith asked, still agitated, but also confused.

“Keith,” said Shiro, a warning in the edge of his voice.

Hunk kept his head hung low. “I know, I know. I was trying to figure out these alien ingredients so food goo wasn’t our only source of food. But then I got thinking about…things. And the ingredients were not mixing the way I wanted them to,” he idly took up spoon into his hand a twirled it in his fingers.

“Is there anything we can help you with?” Shiro offered.

“No, Shiro. I was just trying to work through some of my own stuff,” he smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “My mom used to joke that ‘stressed is just desserts spelled backwards’ and would end up baking all kinds of stuff when she was worried about something. So baking has become a…habit of sorts.”

Allura and Coran glanced at each other, “Those two words are spelled nothing alike,” Allura had murmured.

Lance heard her and smiled, as Shiro explained “In one of our Earth alphabets they actually are.”

Allura accepted the response, and Coran looked like he wanted to discuss linguistics further. But now was clearly not the right time.

“Guys,” Lance said drawing their attention. “I’ll help clean up in here, so you can go back to whatever you were up to. I’m awesome at kitchen clean-up.”

“That’s why you clear you the room any time we actually have to clean dishes?” Keith quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, but that’s just so you can experience the joy,” Lance smirked at him. “But seriously, I’ve got this.”

“If you’re sure,” Shiro caught the hint that Lance was trying to get them to leave the room.

Lance nodded at him, with a grin on his face. “Yep. We’re all good here.”

“All right, then we’ll let you get to it. But call us if something comes up,” Shiro instructed. He turned on his heel, and waited for the others to file out before he followed after them. The door to the kitchen softly slid closed.

“Okay, Hunk,” Lance addressed him softly. “Why are you stress baking?”

He gave a non-committal shrug. “It’s what I do.”

“When you aren’t pulling apart machines,” Lance leaned his head against Hunk’s arm.

“I was really just trying to do something normal,” Hunk explained. “Take my mind off space, and fighting, and…and war. But it was hard with all this stuff. I can’t make heads or tails of it, and I just couldn’t handle it anymore.”

Realization dawned on Lance. “Oh, I know what’s going on with you,” Lance kept his voice low. “It’s okay, really,”

“I miss home, man,” Hunk whispered, confirming what Lance was thinking.

“I miss my family too. Everyday,” his voice cracked a little as he spoke.  “So much it hurts,”

“Mom is the best pastry chef in our hometown. When things weren’t going right, we’d bake together,” Hunk closed his eyes thinking back on a fond memory. Lance knew this already, of course, since they were roommates at the Garrison. Homesickness tended to be a common trait there as well, and because of that, they’ve dealt with this before.

Lance sighed. “Yeah, her care packages were the best! I would kill for some of the amazing brownies that she sent me last spring break.”

Hunk nodded solemnly. “I just wanted to feel that bond, even if I was here. Even if I can’t be with her. I wanted to feel close to her the one way I know how out here,” Hunk’s breath hitched, and Lance could feel him trembling ever so slightly.

“Aw, come on,” Lance laughed, but it was weak, more of a little hiccup. “If you start crying, I’ll cry too. And we’ll just be one big, hot mess.”  But it was too late. Fat tears were already rolling down Hunk’s cheeks. Lance wrapped his arms around Hunk’s bicep, and buried his face into his arm. It was the only way he could try and provide comfort.

They just sat together silently. Thinking about the things they left behind, the goodbyes left unsaid.

After a little while Hunk sniffed, and shifted in his seat. Lance was still clinging onto his arm, but pulled back to look at Hunk. His face was tear streaked, and he still had spots of flour on his face and in his hair. He was, quite literally, a mess. Although, Lance probably wasn’t much better. He used his shirt sleeve to dab the tears away from his eyes. He had always been a sympathetic crier, but this time he was hurting just as much as Hunk was.

Lance cracked a half smile, “See I told you we wouldn’t look pretty. My eyes are gonna be all puffy now.”

Hunk let out a breathy laugh, “Yeah, we’re in as good of shape as this kitchen.”

“If you want to try, I’m sure we can make this work,” Lance leaned forward and dipped his finger into one of the bowls of batter to taste. “This one kind of tastes like cinnamon, but a little sweeter.”

“I don’t think it will cook well on its own though. It’s too runny,” Hunk perked up a bit, and moved from his seat to grab another bowl with a powdered substance inside. “Might work if we add some of this.”

“Is this stuff really supposed to be pink?” Lance asked as he stirred the bowl.

“Hm, yeah. Pretty sure.”

Lance brought over a cookie sheet, and they spooned the batter out onto it. Hunk took it and then placed them in the equivalent of the oven. A ticker was set on the counter to keep track of time. Coran had previously explained how to use the oven, and so far they haven’t had any mishaps.

Hunk sat back at the counter next to Lance, and Hunk wrapped his arm around his shoulders. “You doing okay?”

He hummed. “Yeah. I should be asking you that question. You good?”

“I think so. Just had to get it out of my system, you know?” Hunk pulled Lance a little closer, so that he was leaning into his chest. “Had to cry it out.”

“We all miss Earth. Some days we miss it much more than others,” said Lance. “But we have each other, right? So we’re not truly alone. We’re gonna be alright. I have to keep reminding myself of that.”

“So profound, Lance,” Hunk teased.

“Hey!” Lance protested, but was cut off by the chime of the ticker. Hunk released his hold on him, and went to remove the tray from the oven.

The batter had cooked into lumpy circles. Hunk poked one, and it sprung back like cake. “Kind of looks like a cookie.”

“Shape doesn’t really matter, but what does it taste like?” Lance grabbed a cookie off the sheet. It was still incredibly warm. He tentatively took a bite out of it. “Oh, it tastes a bit like a snickerdoodle. It's good.”

“Really?” Hunk took his own cookie to sample. “You’re right.”

“We could call them space doodles….”

Hunk laughed, “I don’t think that sounds like a very appetizing dessert, but we can go with it for now.” He scooped the cookies off the tray, and put them on a plate. “We could go share these with the others.”

“And leave all of this mess behind?” Lance pouted. “What a shame.”

Hunk just shook his head. “Come on, you space doodle,” He picked up the plate and headed for the door. Lance got up from his stool to follow.

Hunk turned to him before he opened the door. “And thanks, Lance. For being there for me. It means a lot.”

Lance grinned at him. The hurt wasn’t completely gone. The homesickness would always be somewhat present, but they would be okay. They just had to remember that they could find comfort in each other.

Lance placed his hand on Hunk’s shoulder. “Anytime you need me.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote another fluffy, sort of angsty fic. This time I really wanted to explore Lance and Hunk's relationship. They definitely need more screen time together in season 2. I hope they don't seem too out of character. It's hard to write them with only 11 episodes, and I've watched the series through at least 4 times now. 
> 
> I really hope this doesn't feel too rushed. Especially the ending. Anyway, feel free to leave comments, or constructive criticism. Kudos are always appreciated!


End file.
